Snow Logic Like That
by RuneYue
Summary: Harry enjoys the snow with his late friend's familiar. One shot. Animagi!Crookshanks. Mentions of Character Death. M/M moments.


**Title:** Snow Logic Like That**  
Series: **Harry Potter**  
Parings/Characters:** Harry and Crookshanks, animagi!Crookshanks**  
Disclaimer:** All characters, as well as the Harry Potter series, belong to J.K. Rowling. I only take responsibility for the corruption of her characters.**  
Rating/Warnings:** PG-13 or T for language and rather suggestive moments. Mentions of Character Death.**  
Dedication/Notes:** For Kamerreon! The prompt was _"first snow"_ and the paring was _"Harry and any rare male_". I'm pretty sure this is a rare one.**  
Summary:** _Harry enjoys the snow with his late friend's familiar._

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"So, this is your first snow?",Harry asked, glancing about the pure white fluff covering the entire ground of the Potter property.

The young man standing beside him snorted softly, brushing fresh flakes out of his reddish gold hair. "First one since I was human, all those years ago.",he corrected with a slightly bitter tone, stomping his feet in an effort to retain his dwindling warmth.

Harry nodded at the reply, stretching his hand out to catch a few wind blown flakes and sighed. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe how fast things had changed in such a short amount of time.

It had been less than a month since his best friend, Hermione Granger, had passed away - from a terrible muggle related accident, of all things - and he had inherited her surly, scarily intelligent familiar. That had been enough of an adjustment, seeing as how Crookshanks hadn't really liked many other than her and his own familiar, Hedwig, wasn't too keen on her wizard having another. But, they had all gotten along well enough. Crookshanks had, surprisingly, reached out to him and Hedwig, sensing her human's grief, had stopped attempting to pluck out all of the Kneazle's fur. Things were calm once again, almost serenely so.

Of course, since he was the Harry Potter, peace within his household didn't last long.

Less than two weeks after the funeral, Crookshanks had trotted into the kitchen with a rather old, golden collar - it was a piece that Harry felt sure Hermione would of appreciated - in his mouth. Since the familiar had found it, Harry had no problem putting around his neck and, one magical transformation later, there stood a completely naked man in his kitchen, right where the half kneazle had been. The young wizard must of been getting jaded, he felt, since his only reaction had been to offer tea. He vaguely remembered Hedwig hooting with laughter at the entire scene. Smart arsed little bird.

As it turned out, Crookshanks was actually a one Rooksfield Charles Shanks, a wizard betrayed by his not-quite-lovely fiancè while the two were attempting to learn their animagi transformations nearly a decade ago. And, frustratingly so, that was about all the information Harry had gotten out of him. At least the inherent distrust of people and striking intelligence was finally explained.

Despite being suddenly free, Rooksfield never made an attempt to leave Harry's side. He still carried his aloof, scathing attitude, however, which only served to confuse Harry more. During the past week, Harry had given up trying to make head or tails of anything that went on in the newly transformed wizards mind. If experience had taught him anything, it was that pushing for answers usually gave nothing but headaches in return. Since Rooksfield carried no malice towards him, he didn't see the harm in letting this situation work itself out.

Two hours ago, his patience was finally rewarded with a slam of a door and scarf to the face. Rooksfield had stormed into his study and dragged Harry out to the front by the back of his shirt so the two could enjoy the first snow fall of the year.

Well, at least that was what he thought Rooksfield had grumbled, as Harry had tried keeping up. Now, standing in the middle of the front walk, Harry had no earthly idea what they were doing. Apparently, neither did Rooksfield.

"I forgot how bloody cold it could get!",Rooksfield cursed, stomping his feet once more.

Harry rolled his eyes and attempted to suppress a grin. "It wouldn't be as cold if you'd just wear a shirt."

"Kneazle's don't wear shirts.",came the glaring reply.

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Remind me to introduce you to ."

Rooksfield grumbled, turning his attention towards the sky. "It still looks so very large.",he murmured, his eyes expressing a bit of awe. "I thought that was just because I had been a cat."

Silence enveloped the two wizards, as they continued to glance about the winter wonderland forming around them. Harry had always been a rather quiet individual, but his time at Hogwarts had taught him that snow like this was meant to be enjoyed and yelled about. Not silently stared at.

Scooping up some snow, Harry quickly formed a ball while Rooksfield continued to contemplate. If nothing else, it'd be nice to see some emotion in other wizard's face besides bland contemplation and irksome glares. Satisfied with the size and shape, Harry let the cold sphere fly directly into Rooksfield's face.

"Bloody hell!",began a rather satisfying string of curses.

"Cat got your tongue, Rooksfield?",Harry grinned, deftly back peddling to get a safe distance away.

To his surprise, the red head gave him a simple, yet predatory smirk before crouching low to the ground and bursting forth in a sprint, then tackle.

Yells and laughter were exchanged for several minutes, as the two wizards wrestled about in the snow, before both finally collapsed into the cushion of white, happy smiles plastered upon both of their reddening faces.

"A cat does not have my tongue, Harry.",Rooksfield panted.

Harry glanced up, amusement etched on his face. In all the excitement, he almost forgot what had started the little match.

"Oh, really?",he taunted, sitting up as his Gryffindor pride readied him to start another fight.

"No, it certainly does not.",the red haired wizard grinned, his eyes taking on a sudden gleam that briefly stroked upon Harry's nerves. In one quick flash, Harry found himself pinned to the frozen ground. "But it certainly will have yours."

That kind of logic, Harry Potter could not argue with.

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Not the one I was planning to write, for the prompt, but I like it regardless.

Thanks to all who read and to those who review, as well. Hope you enjoyed it!


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